tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58684514106866188092024-03-12T18:40:34.870-07:00☮Delicate Nothings☮Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-90022479471361633052011-01-11T10:20:00.001-08:002011-01-11T10:20:38.794-08:00TragedyTragedy<br />
Travesty<br />
Close my eyes for a while<br />
Forced from the world, a patient smile.<br />
Teardrops raindrops <br />
Redundant blood drops <br />
How can you say that your truth is better than ours?<br />
Shoulder to shoulder brother, we carry no arms<br />
The blind man knew, will know, knows<br />
Bullets shred dove wings, hatred shows<br />
And a harmony echoes.<br />
You rip it from my hands and swear it’s all gone<br />
And you do anything you can just to say you have won.<br />
Close my eyes for a while<br />
I can still hear the pain, no longer a smile.<br />
Peace monger<br />
Stronger.<br />
Strongest.<br />
The blind man has seen this all before<br />
A constant strive to settle a score<br />
And I’ll keep my eyes closed<br />
Even though <br />
the tears still show…Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-369867181454971642010-12-02T00:01:00.000-08:002010-12-02T00:01:39.815-08:00emp Tthe refigerator hums<br />
nay<br />
it screams in the corner<br />
screams for release<br />
for being constrained for too long.<br />
white (brick) walls.<br />
brown stifling cupboards<br />
a (too hard) floor<br />
the piano's solace echoes off the pictures<br />
magneted to its face.<br />
pictures of smiles<br />
of company once held in sweet<br />
warm<br />
embrace.<br />
embraces echo off its face.<br />
solitude<br />
solemn-itude<br />
touched by a cold finger down the spine<br />
sadness.<br />
emptiness.<br />
longing.<br />
alone.<br />
all<br />
alone.Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-73929644716741339612010-10-06T11:50:00.000-07:002010-10-06T11:50:40.267-07:00UpdateSo with all the going-ons that have been passing these few weeks, I'm proud to say I've been nominated for Peace Corps service and have moved onto the next part of my application! Apparently, the specified program (as it stands) that I would be fulfilling is a community service program in Central or South America and my anticipated departure date will be August 2011. In order to even be nominated I had to have completed my application, gone to an hour and a half interview with my local recruiter, and successfully passed a legal background check. After waiting and waiting, I've been nominated. This means I have to wait even longer! (Who knew the process would take so long!) Now, I've been sent my medical packet which is presenting itself to be the most gruelling part of the application process thus far...I have to get a physical, see the eye doctor, go to the dentist, and get them all to fill out and sign these huge packets of forms. Because all my doctors are in Colorado, I have to wait until I go home for Thanksgiving and spend my entire first day making my rounds throughout the medical field! Either way, I'm so excited!!!<br />
<br />
Also, today I'm going for a job interview at the University Medical Center. It sounds like such an easy job and it pays reallllllly well...I won't be doing slavework and be getting paid crap like I am now at Slaveway. AND they allow time and a half over time! I'm stoked! Even though I'm pretty sick, it seems like things are in my favor lately. I didn't get a chance to pay my rent until today and my landlady told me not to worry about the late fee because I'm such a good tennant! AND I'm getting paid on Friday and starting my diet on Monday with Danny, Petey, and Brian. <br />
<br />
I'm slightly nervous about the diet...it's supposed to allow you to lose 1-3 pounds a day. I'm not sure that kind of weightloss is healthy...but whatever works, right? I want to make sure I'm at least fit-looking for Halloween and skinny (enough) when I go home for Thanksgiving. I want that approval from my family. Is that such a terrible thing? I want that approval for myself, and this seems to be the way to do it! <br />
<br />
I'm so excited for Tiffany to come for Halloween!! It's gonna be tight this year...but TJ is contacting his dad about the keg, I've already bought liquor for the jungle juice...the only thing we need now is time to decorate! I need to get TJs butt in gear about moving the couches around and I need to get my own butt in gear with buying my costume! Halloween is always a blast =).<br />
<br />
OKay, enough update. I'm outttttttttt like a light.Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-73120100063894572762010-09-30T13:54:00.000-07:002010-09-30T13:54:12.119-07:00SB 1070 Video for POL 428<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C9PNWXjt_-E"></a><br />
<br />
Here's my video on political evil for POL428...Tiffany actually gave me the idea to post the video to my blog :-)<br />
<br />
Enjoy!Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-47116069470842142372010-07-28T15:50:00.001-07:002010-07-28T15:50:54.920-07:00Red StoneI'm holding a grudge against the flowers <br />who pose as your neighbors <br />the ones who try to mimic your purity <br />I trace your name engraved in the red stone so much <br />it makes no sense any more. <br />The breeze rests its weary head on my shoulders, <br />encouraging me that everything will be okay. <br />How can anything be right <br />when I'm sitting on a stone placed beside a fountain <br />in memory of you? <br />My tears splash on the silence of this sacred moment <br />even so, I wish your laughter would shatter it. <br />I'm holding a grudge against the obstinance of time <br />and would rewind every experience <br />just to see your lips crease into a smile again. <br />I press my cheek on the warm belly of the stone, <br />squeezing my eyes so tightyly as to watch memnories of you <br />like a film without sound <br />I'm holding a grudge against the clouds that pass you overhead, <br />against their freedom. <br />Even still, I know you lay not in this stone or even by this fountain, <br />I leave with the reassurance that your spirit accomanies me <br />with every adventure, that your soul sees through our eyes <br />and that your smile is reflected every moment one of us draws a breath. <br />In essence, I'm holding a grudge against myself. <br />My selfishness and my envy, <br />my jealousy that you're not here <br />for me to hold.Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-48687670311909386572010-06-21T20:30:00.001-07:002010-06-21T20:30:52.054-07:00The authority of government proceeds from the consent of the governed, not from the threat of violenceDelicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-44678747576510694482010-03-16T08:44:00.000-07:002010-03-16T08:46:52.361-07:00StrangersHe grows inside someone he does not recognize. <br />The brief awkward moment that happens <br />when two land-locked lovers touch toes, <br />both yearning for the sea-like navy life. <br />Feeling alive with every pen stroke, every mark: <br />births a new idea. <br />Antecedents only to each other, <br />drawing, giving birth to a connection. <br />Becoming a part of a legend with a jagged ledge <br />that fingers caress legibly. <br />Lips give life to wafts of clouds in a chapped, blistering cold. <br />So cold that nose hairs freeze when breath, <br />so damn cold eye juices turn to tiny ice cubes. <br />He placed them in his whisky glass and filled it with mourning. <br />As the sun rises over the moment frozen in time, <br />it’s so peaceful here. <br />Pines and aspens point to their mother, <br />snow muffles the grass’ purpose. <br />The deepest creases aren’t the ones <br />marked by sleds, skis, and boards <br />but the one pressed by tears streaming down cheeks. <br />A daughter sinks into a corner, <br />crying little tiny ice cubes <br />as her daddy plays real-life war games. <br />He grows inside someone he does not recognize, <br />and they wish each other goodnight from their separate sides. <br />Like strangers on a hotel bed.Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-91669484342582822512010-02-15T01:44:00.000-08:002010-02-15T01:45:47.001-08:00The Taste of MorningTime's knife slides from the sheath,<br />as fish from where it swims.<br /><br />Being closer and closer is the desire <br />of the body. Don't wish for union!<br /><br />There's a closeness beyond that. Why<br />would God want a second God? Fall in<br /><br />love in such a way that it frees you<br />from any connecting. Love is the soul's<br /><br />light, the taste of morning, no me, no<br />we, no claim of being. These words<br /><br />are the smoke the fire gives off as it<br />absolves its defects, as eyes in silence,<br /><br />tears, face. Love cannot be said.Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-24379446066065442042010-01-28T08:43:00.001-08:002010-01-28T08:43:52.678-08:00I want...I want you to know what it feels like <br />To have your first kiss<br />Those volcanic butterflies that<br />Stumble in your stomach <br />Stirring stand-still feelings that stop you from hesitation<br />I want you to know what it feels like <br />To drive your first car<br />Hands gripped tight to the wheel, <br />Trembling, quivering, head-on-a-swivel-kind-of-excitement<br />Thirst for the open road and where it will go, what-will-you-know-kind-of-feeling.<br />I want you to know what it feels like to hold your diploma at graduation<br />Finally fulfilling preceding expectations<br />Wiping from your face the condensation <br />Ready to take your first steps alone into the nation.<br />I want you to know what it feels like <br />To travel, <br />To meet strangers become family<br />To dance on wet soil, surrounded by shadows from a midnight campfire<br />(Too wild and alive to be extinguished).<br />I want you to know what it feels like<br />To hold a lover’s hand<br />To feel safe in enveloping arms, to feel topless and secure<br />To feel the electrified empty spaces between a fingertip to your lower back.<br />I want you to know what it feels like<br />To hold your first child and let them know that everything’s gonna be alright<br />That the monsters and boogeymen are simply noises and shadows.<br />I want you to assure them, with your caressing, comforting words<br />That you’ll always be there and they need have no fear <br />With your voice oh so near.<br />I want you to know how it feels <br />To watch your children grow old <br />Like daisies on steroids<br />Feelings your experience grow taller as your bones grow smaller and your love spreads over our family<br />Like a blanket for cover<br />I don’t want you to know what it feels like, however, <br />To sit in a hollowed-out church shell<br />Watching your family fill the rows<br />Knowing what will happen next<br />Drowning in tears<br />Knowing you were the one we turned to for smiles<br />Knowing you played the violin <br />Only because I do<br />Knowing your favorite sign was of peace<br />Only because mine is<br />And all those times I ignored your calls<br />I want you to know how sorry I am.<br />I want you to know how much I love you<br />And I want you to know <br />How much <br />I <br />Want<br />You<br />Back.Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-87085180434197709472010-01-18T14:17:00.001-08:002010-01-18T14:17:38.936-08:00BalloonThose words<br />Rolled around in her mouth and spat into her hand, slathered with poison and painted with provocation...<br />I know them all too well.<br />They stab like a tiny silver pin puncturing the skin of a rubber balloon, <br />It starts slow, the metallic point driving and delving deeper into the sphere<br />The globe bends and stretches, trying to accommodate to the fiendish play<br />And then <br />Just as quickly as she came, the pin becomes a perpetrator, an assassin<br />The balloon implodes<br />It withers<br />It wrinkles<br />It writhes in pain<br />Wondering what could have happened<br />Wondering what I could have done differently to prevent this from happening.<br />Those words<br />Wafted and whispered, warmly cloaking frigid neck hairs standing on end <br />I know them all too well.<br />I know that it’s better to let the phone ring<br />I know it's better to push you from my mind<br />But when I see how easily I was pushed from yours<br />A part of me wants to become blind, so I wouldn't have to live one more moment<br />Knowing<br />How insignificant I was to you<br />Congratulations on your marriage.<br />I’m happy too<br />Thanks for asking.Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-34129749673513575562010-01-07T00:33:00.000-08:002010-01-07T00:37:09.205-08:00The BoxShe stares at her reflection now in the mirror. <br />It’s so different than what it was…<br />has it already been almost three years? <br />Slowly her eyes caress what used to be her face in a photo adjacent to the mirror.<br />Now, the rugged reflection sitting in front of her <br />shows only bulges and dripping eyeliner. <br />Frigid, wiry hair stands stubbornly erect, <br />ignoring any rules of gravity. <br />Her withered hand nears her face <br />as a steaming cigarette is enveloped by two white, crunchy lips. <br />She inhales the smoke from that cigarette as if it were her last breath. <br />Again, her eyes graze the reflection spitefully as her expression hollows. <br />Times were easier back then. <br />Even the most severe fights in the photograph seem serene in this atmosphere. <br />She remembers the smell of moist dew on the grass in the mornings <br />and the cool breeze from the thunderous nightfall <br />wafting its way through the screen. <br />Now, the smell that infests her nose is a stagnant, <br />torpid stench of cigarettes and spilt whisky. <br />Even the air suffocates in here, <br />wrapping itself around this square box of a room. <br />Cars pass outside her box. <br />Her eyes veer from the mirror to the glass <br />as she allows a brief thought of curiosity to escape her mind. <br />Where were they all going? <br />She got up from her knees, <br />forcing her eyes to stay away from watching her body rise in the mirror. <br />She already knew what they would see. <br />The cigarette smoldered the pockets of air as she walked. <br />She neared the cracking door like a spirit to their grave: <br />hesitance overwhelmed her. <br />She knew who would be on the other end once the splitting wood panel was creaked open. <br />Even so, <br />the malicious cigarette was dropped to the floor and suffocated by a heel, <br />and she curled her fingers around the cold, brass handle. <br />Every twitch in her body became apparent. <br />The doorknob became harder and harder to turn <br />with each raspy breath that escaped her lungs. <br />She knew who would be on the other end. <br />The wailing hinges seemed to reflect her sorrow at whose eyes would be meeting hers. <br />She looked up from her box, <br />smoke fled the room like citizens from a fire, <br />and in an instant her lips creased into what seemed to be a smile. <br />She outstretched her palm, <br />exposing her unusually hairy arm, <br />and walked out of the box, <br />one step at a time.Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-26212729275247470422009-12-20T15:02:00.000-08:002009-12-20T15:03:56.039-08:00Holy GrailWell I've seen bad, an' I've seen good <br />An' I've seen a balance of the two <br />But ne'er before have I seen such blaze <br />As that I've seen from you. <br />An' I've seen good, an' I've seen evil <br />Sometimes I see evil more <br />But I tell you that it's neither of them <br />That makes me quite this sore. <br /><br />So came a knockin' the other day <br />One asked for a sip of tea <br />Maybe good news, maybe the booze <br />Maybe the soul of me. <br /><br />Now if you found a Holy Grail <br />Would you drink its wine? <br />Would you pray for heaven's gifts? <br />Would you drink its brine? <br />Would you sell it to the devil <br />In trade for his soul undone? <br />Would you give it for a life? <br />Would you trade it for The One? <br /><br />Well I've seen heaven, an' I've seen hell <br />An' I've seen Earth between <br />But ne'er before have I seen such days <br />As the ones I've seen in me. <br />An' I've seen light, an' I've seen dark <br />Sometimes I've seen what's right <br />But I say it's none of them <br />I know is a certain might. <br /><br />So Satan came knockin' the other day <br />Asked for a beer, or three <br />Maybe bad news, maybe the booze <br />Maybe the soul of me. <br /><br />Now if you found a Holy Grail <br />Would you drink its wine? <br />Would you pray for heaven's gifts? <br />Would you drink its brine? <br />Would you sell it to the devil <br />In trade for his soul undone? <br />Would you give it for a life? <br />Would you trade it for The One? <br /> <br /><br />Now there is light <br />And there is dark <br />And something in between <br />But if I'm right <br />I must embark <br />On a journey perchance to dream. <br /><br />So I came knockin' the other day <br />Asked to speak with me <br />Maybe some news, maybe to choose <br />What I've come to be. <br /><br />Now if you found a Holy Grail <br />Would you drink its wine? <br />Would you pray for heaven's gifts? <br />Would you drink its brine? <br />Would you sell it to the devil <br />In trade for his soul undone? <br />Would you give it for a life? <br />Would you trade it for The One?Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-63580396385286867562009-12-08T00:00:00.000-08:002009-12-08T00:02:48.198-08:00Found this useful...inside-digital.blog.lonelyplanet.com/2009/12/01/27-travel-tips-or-how-to-get-more-out-of-your-trip/<br /><br /><br />interesting things to keep in mind..=)Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-30820428092935601192009-12-02T10:16:00.000-08:002009-12-04T15:15:33.758-08:00WWF Brasil<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0LJY5Bz7BIo/SxavJGSFH2I/AAAAAAAABwg/Tex4n32ddmE/s1600-h/wwfposter.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 277px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0LJY5Bz7BIo/SxavJGSFH2I/AAAAAAAABwg/Tex4n32ddmE/s400/wwfposter.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410704573172359010" /></a><br /><br /><br />So many things strike me as odd about this picture. I'm not even sure where to start actually. A little history on this picture is that it is the final scene in an ad proposed by a Brazilian company for the WWF (world wildlife foundation). Once the ad was leaked onto the internet, the WWF immediately denied any involvement it had with the company that introduced this idea and claimed that the involved groups were fired immediately. <br />Ok so they got what they wanted, which is seeming to me to be notoriety. But the stark image of this ad is astounding to me...not only is it the reflections of such a travesty through the eyes of another nation but it compares that in terms of the 2005 tsunami that took the lives of thousands. The commercial itself I still cannot generate an appreciation for, but this picture has stirred a few of my thoughts: like, for example, it's true what the ad is saying. It basically states that over 2 thousand people were slaughtered in the travesty that we refer to today as 9/11, and over 250 thousand died in the tsunami in Asia. That's a true fact. It's a proven statistic, and yet when a single image is brought about the collapse of the twin towers the company must immediately deny any involvement with the initiation of the propaganda. Why? Why couldn't they just man-up? I mean, this ad has purposeful implications of the fear factor, which is what it inevitably evoked. Why, then are they now refusing to accept the blame? I say they're a bunch of pussies. If you have something to say then <span style="font-weight:bold;">say it</span>, regardless of who it offends! But I guess that's not how "big business" works...<br />That's anther thing too that I hate about the reactions to this ad. The commercial was revoked in fear of offending American's feelings. Why must there be so much care put into the preservation of Politically Correctiveness in this country? One thing I admired in other countries during my short time abroad is that there is no such thing as "PC"...people just say what they fucking mean. Of course, along with this comes the inhibitions of racism and machismo and the foreign perception of biasism but at least the things are on the plate. I feel like a fear is invoked upon the world by the United States. Sure, we can promote movies suggesting that every other nation is primitive in comparison to us, yet one single shred of negativity towards the nation and all of a sudden fingers are pointing and blame is flying as fast as the bullets we are inflicting. un-be-fucking-lievable.Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-498214481168074292009-10-27T16:32:00.000-07:002009-10-27T16:36:52.491-07:00Nearing the end of the beginning<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0LJY5Bz7BIo/SueEASgmFQI/AAAAAAAABwY/KGnCMbWo-Zo/s1600-h/B.Aires+050.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0LJY5Bz7BIo/SueEASgmFQI/AAAAAAAABwY/KGnCMbWo-Zo/s400/B.Aires+050.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397427818930246914" /></a>Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-42732528708206031282009-10-19T15:10:00.000-07:002009-10-19T15:27:29.317-07:00HeavenwatcherSupine, pinned down by<br />The magnet of this tiny,<br />Huge round world<br /><br />Around them<br />Desert horizon<br />Obsidian tipped with flame<br /><br />Then deep, quiet<br />Blue -<br />Fathomless ocean night<br /><br />Then sky-black space<br />Sparkled with<br />Star-grains<br /><br />Time-wind blown<br />Scattered like grains of sand<br />Fixed into maps of<br /><br />Stillness and change<br />A perfect geometry<br />Wheels of pure power<br /><br />Traced on the night- black<br />Darkness of receptive minds<br />Pinned to the desert floor<br /><br />By hungry earthforce<br />Drawing her own<br />Back to her self<br /><br />Subject to work and weakness<br />Pain, pleasure and cessation<br />Within this tiny tactile homeDelicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-84528018660985352792009-10-13T15:43:00.000-07:002009-10-13T15:44:05.846-07:00PhilosiphyHow interesting I find it. This whole idea of “life” to naive eyes. Impression. Oppression. Depression. Expression. This world that revolves for eternity and its complete internment of repression, oppression.<br />What is it?<br />What are we?<br />Who defines “we” anyway? The simplest, most idiosyncratic opinion of "we" is characterized into a straightforward word of “culture”. No. This is incorrect. When one is asked to define “culture” common images of religion, food, and dancing come to mind….No. This is incorrect. When was the simplistic term of “culture” suddenly thrown into a vicious whirlpool of doubt? Absence of knowledge within the common boundaries of intelligence is astounding to me. It leaves me awe-struck that with one simple word, the confines of morality and humanity can be so conforming that they nod their heads in agreement without question. Without challenge. Without argumentation. Where in the book of life does it say that he who listens must obey? For that matter, where is there a book of life anyway? The aforementioned “book” if you will is defined by a sadistic society who is lead by the upper class, Anglo, man of high society. <br />I say no.<br />No to conformity<br />No to belief<br />No to comfort<br />Step out of the “book of life” realm.<br /><br />It’s the only way society has been able to advance in history. It’s the only way society will be able to advance in the future. It’s the only way.Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-22657265783525385612009-10-13T14:36:00.000-07:002009-10-13T14:38:15.666-07:00I am DeterminedI'm determined to be somebody someday,<br />No matter what obstacles get in my way,<br />For this is something I attend to achieve,<br />Through hard work as I continue to believe,<br /><br />The mountain may seem way to steep, But I`ll not sit at the foot and weep,<br />I'm going to the top,yes all the way,<br />Because you see, I`m determined to be somebody someday,<br /><br />The good ole black book that governs my soul,<br />Shows me how to live and set my goals,<br />It will carry me through,show me the way,<br />That's how I know I`ll be somebody some day,<br /><br />You must be willing to pay the price,<br />Be able to shelter the trials of life,<br />From my work I`ll not only get my pay,<br />But the satisfaction of being somebody someday,<br /><br />From a slave cabin to the hall of fame,<br />We shall remember Booker T. Washington's name,<br />This great American excelled all the way,<br />Because he was determined to be somebody someday,<br /><br />No matter what people may say,<br />No matter what may get in my way,<br />I'm going to the top yes all the way,<br />Because you see I'm determined to be somebody some day!Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-1837618629476933032008-10-30T13:10:00.000-07:002008-10-30T13:13:21.881-07:00Movie Star AddictionYeah, you're pretty fly<br />You made my curiosity spark<br />The sight of you made my head turn in curio<br />I'm a suicide blonde prone to an addictive harmony<br /><br />When we kissed, every chill i posessed<br />Trembled, quivered, shivered, shuddered<br />Your hands moved across my body<br />Your lips embraced my weakness<br /><br />You told me of my remarkability<br />and i believed you, yeah you were pretty jive<br />Then tomorrow you were vacant, like <br />Someone playing a piano without teeth: empty<br /><br />The melodies reverberated of an alleyway<br />Where once lived a movie star<br />The kind that lit her cigarette with prestige<br />And lived in the brick, black night<br /><br />A movie star that moved on from the drowned piano brick black<br />To an iridescant saxophone neighborhood<br />Suffocating with lights and lights and notes and busy-ness and lights<br />i was your alleyway, i was your home<br /><br />Ain't nothing around here for you worth coming back for<br />i thought, sittin on my hollowed piano<br />Ain't nothin in me that the 3-story house with that tree swing<br />ain't got; besides maybe my piano, my bricks, and my dark.<br /><br />Days melted to centuries<br />And baby, your photo faded<br />People moved in upstairs, downstairs, next door<br />My piano had a new set of ivory teeth<br /><br />When my new cad black phone rang with your call<br />I picked it up, pressed my ear close to your voice<br />You stood at my brick door with those bags<br />I opened my door to you, God i wish i hadn't<br /><br />You played my piano, admired the new keys<br />Persuaded me of your enticement<br />PLaced a black fedora on my forehead <br />And, for the first time, i felt like you were home again<br /><br />Like the movie star that took her bags from the trunk<br />clunked them on the brink patio<br />and with that carefully-rolled cigarette steaming in her fingertips<br />Opened her arms to her home<br /><br />We sat next to each other like it was when we were content<br />but then i sensed your hesitation...it was all too well-known<br />even in the dark i could feel your eyes move past mine<br />And then i heard your voice on the line with her<br /><br />And the next day the bags were gone from my patio<br />my piano's keys were laid splintered in its mouth<br />Your cigarette still burned on the floor<br />and your scent remained on the hollow of my pillow<br /><br />Bottom line baby: you're my movie star addiction<br />the immediate pleasure only results in long-lasting pain<br />so hey, why the hell not, let's live in the moment<br />let's take another hit<br /><br />~Janina YatesDelicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-77138508471584875962008-10-30T12:51:00.001-07:002008-10-30T12:51:32.473-07:00The story I should Writeold mr. webster could never define what's being said between your heart and mine.<br />and when the answer that you want<br />is in the question that you state<br />come what may<br />come what may<br />I have the hardest time resisting you.<br />i dont mind you comin here and wastin all my mind. <br />cause when you're standin oh so near i kinda lose my mind, <br />yeah... i guess you're just what i needed<br />i don't want the world to see me<br />'cause i don't think that they'd understand;<br /><br />but if i wanted silence, i would whisper<br />if i wanted loneliness, i'd choose to go<br />and if i liked rejection, i'd audition<br />and if i didn't love you, you would know<br /><br />i find the map and draw a straight line over rivers, farms, and state lines. <br />the distance from A to where you'd B, it's only finger lengths that i see. <br />i touch the place where i'd find your face. <br />my fingers increases of distant dark places. <br />i hang my coat up in the first bar, there is no peace that i've found so far. <br />the laughter penetrates my silence as drunken men find flaws in science. <br />their words mostly noises ghosts with just voices, <br />your words in my memory are like music to me. <br />and miles from where you are, i lay down on the cold ground and i, <br />i pray that something picks me up and sets me down in your warm arms<br /><br />turned my whole world upside down<br />save me, i am swallowed by the guilt of this. <br />you're gone, sleeping in the dust. we will not let time erase us.Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-38094147027102265662008-05-19T21:56:00.001-07:002008-05-19T22:03:36.186-07:00Em PortuguesEntao, pra esto, eu vou escrever em vez de falar.<br />Tudo esto seja muito mas dificil que eu querei. <br />Tudo ema guerra que nadie quer mirar. <br />E de mal maneira e o governo nao quer notar.<br />Estou tan brava com o pais que nao gosto de falar com meus companeiros.<br />Nao gosto de falar com meus pais<br />Com meus amigos<br />Com tudo a gente que eu queria confiar<br />nao quero <br />nao posso<br />e impossivel.<br />A unica pessoa que posso falar e confiar<br />E meu mente.<br />E solamente meu mente.<br />Com tudos os trupos morriendo e tudos as vidas terminando<br />A unica pessoa que posso confiar<br />E<br />Eu.Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-82917654390126449112008-05-09T02:25:00.001-07:002008-05-09T02:35:58.658-07:00Final Post!Two analyses of photographs.<br /><br /> <a href="http://deliciouslywhispered.blogspot.com/2008/04/photo-analysis.html">Explosion</a><br /><br /> <a href="http://deliciouslywhispered.blogspot.com/2008/04/battle-of-chancellorsville.html">Chancellorsville</a><br /><br />Two creative pieces. <br /><br /> <a href="http://deliciouslywhispered.blogspot.com/2008/04/seasons.html">Seasons</a><br /><br /> <a href="http://deliciouslywhispered.blogspot.com/2008/04/war-of-self-worth.html">Self-Worth</a><br /><br />Two letters.<br /><br /> <a href="http://deliciouslywhispered.blogspot.com/2008/05/letter-to-no-one.html">No One</a> (New)<br /><br /> <a href="http://deliciouslywhispered.blogspot.com/2008/05/in-response-to-letter-to-no-one.html">Response</a> (New)<br /><br />Group effort post.<br /><br /> <a href="http://deliciouslywhispered.blogspot.com/2008/04/justification.html">Justification</a><br /><br />Medium other than writing/photography. <br /><br /> <a href="http://deliciouslywhispered.blogspot.com/2008/04/dont-worry-well-all-float-on-alright.html">Dreaming Through Eras</a><br /><br />Own design and execution: dream<br /><br /> <a href="http://deliciouslywhispered.blogspot.com/2008/05/gas-station.html">Gas Station</a> (New)<br /><br />Song lyrics.<br /><br /> <a href="http://deliciouslywhispered.blogspot.com/2008/05/heavenly-harmonica.html">Heavenly Harmonica</a> (New)<br /><br />Comic strip.<br /><br /> <a href="http://deliciouslywhispered.blogspot.com/2008/05/comic.html">Ooh Funny Haha</a> (New)<br /><br /><br /><em>Author's note: Matt, thank you so much for an amazing semester, I've thoroughly enjoyed taking this class and having you as a teacher. Have a great summer and I hope to keep in touch!</em>Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-73744180156606514402008-05-09T02:11:00.000-07:002009-10-13T14:54:55.857-07:00Comic<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0LJY5Bz7BIo/StT3J3VzlII/AAAAAAAABsU/h6gKY6oFgpA/s1600-h/comic.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 173px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0LJY5Bz7BIo/StT3J3VzlII/AAAAAAAABsU/h6gKY6oFgpA/s320/comic.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392206402715620482" /></a>Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-40260997387081422242008-05-09T01:07:00.000-07:002008-05-09T01:09:13.321-07:00Gas StationThis scene takes place<br />tucked away in a mountain bed,<br />at a lowly two a.m. broken down gas station<br />whose prices expired with the rusting door hinges.<br />This scene takes place<br />under an oranged streetlamp<br />that casts a shadow blanketing the forgotten station.<br />The building frays around its edges,<br />like a library book that’s been soaked and elapsed<br />in the anguished time it’s been set aside in a shelf.<br />The merciless mountain mouth swallows this modest little shanty<br />viciously gulping down every last memory it once held.Delicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868451410686618809.post-47559444207747372242008-05-09T00:17:00.000-07:002008-05-09T01:03:14.488-07:00Heavenly Harmonica<a href="http://www.lyricsfreak.com/d/dixie+chicks/travelin+soldier_20041020.html">Travelin' Soldier</a> by: Dixie Chicks<br /><br />The dawn passed Eden<br />He waited with feverish banter in his aunt's gate<br />Sitting down in a bench in a city that<br />Gave him orders to a gig with a beaten-in heavenly harmonica <br />"Hes a little shy" so says Gibbons holding a soda<br />At Hally Saunders. "Would you mind stayin down for a while<br />And talking to me?<br />Im 'fraid a lad's lost."<br />She says, "I'm outstanding in a harmonica and I know what we can get"<br /><br />So they went down and they sang out to people<br />Hally said "I bet you get all bashful but I dont" chuckling<br />In greed. not one thought sent luck to Eden.<br />Whose young mind intelligibly Indulged so on benches having thoughts like:<br /><br />"I can't<br />Never gonna have the harmonica of a gig"<br />'Too young for harmonicas', they told him<br />Waitin for the luck of a thinking sinner<br />Ongoing luck with no end<br />Waitin for the sinner to cross paths again<br />"Never make the performance again without the luck sadly",<br />Again so counted the harmonica-ist.<br /><br />So the luck came from an amazing chap<br />In colors thread vivid<br />And he thistled harmonicas out his hands<br />It might be luck and all of the things Eden was so scared of<br />He said "why its getting kinda rowdy over here<br />I think out the dawn should darn a ton per<br />All" It came more efficiently and seemingly that people smiled<br />"Dont worry but I wont be around tonight" whispered Father Almond<br /><br /><br />One friday night at a fiddlin' gig<br />The luck played sufficiently and the audience sang<br />A man screamed, "Folks would you bob your heads"<br />Fiddlers, awestruck, listened on. Listening vehemently, distainfully.<br />Eden, all alone under the stage<br />Was a-playin passionately in the middle box<br />And once suddenly a sound and nobody really knew<br />But people saw a gig with a boy inside a heavinly harmonicaDelicate Nothingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10734232366116556689noreply@blogger.com0